


Maybe I Don't Want Heaven

by UnitedKatesofAmerica



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Catholic Guilt, Character Study, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied Sexual Content, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Violence, Sexuality Crisis, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-14 14:45:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18478396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnitedKatesofAmerica/pseuds/UnitedKatesofAmerica
Summary: There were only three more days until Sonny would get to participate in his very first Communion at Mass and he was ecstatic.Nothing, absolutely nothing, could ruin the day that would lead up to Sunday morning, not even when Bella whined about how he would get to pick where they go for lunch after Mass because it's his big day or the way his mom constantly got onto him about getting dirty while playing with the other boys on their street all week, even though he knew she'd have him in the bath and put into his absolute Sunday best hours before they had to be at church.Well...almost nothing.Maybe one thing.One, major, life changing, thing.To be more precise, the first experience Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr. would question the Catholic Church very well could. And did.





	Maybe I Don't Want Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Fear not, Abuelita Knows Best is still a major work for me, but this hit me out of nowhere and needed to get out!
> 
> Title from and inspired by the wonderful Troye Sivan's "Heaven" if you want to give it a listen while you read. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I am from a large, traditional, Italian-American family (like my grandparents are from Italy), I have been practicing as a Catholic all of my life (minus the lapsed period during my late teens-early 20s), and I am very bisexual. Most of these situations and scenarios are things that I have been through/dealt with personally within both the Catholic Church and my family. So while some people may not have had the same experiences, please respect the work for it is and be kind (: I am in a much better place with my religion and the Catholic Church, and my family most days, so don't be worried lmao. 
> 
> TW: Homophobic thoughts/language throughout, minor bullying/violence, and mentions sexual thoughts/experiences littered throughout. Read at your own risk.
> 
> Also, depending on the feedback/enjoyment, I might add a second part of Sonny's sexual awakening? And make it full of blasphemous saying and ideas, but tell me what you think!

**7 Years Old**

* * *

 

There were only three more days until Sonny would get to participate in his very first Communion at Mass and he was _ecstatic._

Nothing, absolutely _nothing,_  could ruin the day that would lead up to Sunday morning, not even when Bella whined about how he would get to pick where they go for lunch after Mass because it's his big day or the way his mom constantly got onto him about getting dirty while playing with the other boys on their street all week, even though he _knew_ she'd have him in the bath and put into his absolute Sunday best hours before they had to be at church. 

Well...almost nothing.

Maybe one thing.

One, major, life changing, thing. 

To be more precise, the first experience Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr. would question the Catholic Church very well  _could_. And did.

It was Friday night when Sonny and his dad made their way into the Church's chapel, both men dipping their fingers into the holy water and crossing themselves as they walked to the same pew they'd sat in since Sonny could remember, kneeling down before sliding into the booth to wait for Father Brown and the rest of the kids from his catechism class and their parents to join them. 

"What're we doing here again, Pops," Sonny whispered, blue eyes rounded as he took in the otherwise empty chapel. "I thought I was done with catechism for the summer! We did our test and everything last Sunday!"  
  
"You've got to do your first confession before you can have the Eucharist, remember, Sonny boy?" Dominick reminded, looking completely put together and at ease settled into the wooden bench next to his son. "I know Father Brown talked to everyone about it, they made sure all of your Sunday school group could come tonight to learn about what sins are and to walk you through it so you can do your confession tonight as a whole. Like another rite of passage.

Sonny hummed in thought, blond hair mused and dropped into his eyes as he impatience mounted. "I _know_ that, is it gonna take forever?"   
  
Dominick only laughed and ruffled his son's hair, only serving to mess the blond locks up further. "Patience is a virtue son--look, there's Father Brown now."

"Hey Father Brown!" Sonny shouted, the sound echoing off the stained glass walls of the chapel before his father pinched his thigh in warning. "Sorry, sorry, hey Father Brown!" Sonny said, much quieter this time as the priest walked up the aisle way and to the front of the group of children and parents that had accumulated. 

"Hello, everyone," Father Brown started, waving at all of the excited children trying desperately to get his attention, his smile warm and inviting. "I know you're all very excited to be receiving the Holy Eucharist at Mass this Sunday, marking an important milestone in your journey to being a confirmed member of the Catholic Church. You've worked so hard every Sunday during catechism and I am very proud to have been able to walk on this journey with you...."   
  
Sonny, for all of his excitement, hung on to every word that fell from Father Brown's lips, as he did every time he was in the priest's presence. Father Brown was his inspiration for wanting to become a priest when he grew up, after all, with the way he helped the children of the church and welcomed everyone with open arms.

But as Father Brown began his explanation on Confession and the differences between venial and mortal sins, Sonny's stomach began to to fill with something he'd never experienced in church before, and only ever a handful of times in his short life before that. Confusion laced with  _fear._

And that confusion twisted and darkened to dread, even if he couldn't have defined it that way at the time, as he listened to Father Brown explain that loving someone of the same gender was not only a venial sin, something that would injure one's relationship with God, but mortal, and would condemn one to Hell. 

He loved his Dad, and his cousins and uncles and _definitely_ loved his Papa. And he loved his best friends Anthony and George.

And sometimes, when he listened to Gina and Theresa talk about the cute boys in their catechism classes, he thought about what it would be like to love and be loved by one of them one day, too. 

Wasn't that what God wanted? For people to love each other? 

...did that mean _he_ was going to Hell? 

He did his chores _most_ of the time, and he never spoke badly about his parents, or even his three sisters so matter how much they teased him. He always tried to help everyone else at home, school, or at church, including the old women that constantly pinched at his dimples. And he never, ever, _ever,_ used the Lord's name in vain. Didn't all of that stuff matter to God more than the gender of the person he loved? 

"Dad," Sonny whispered, tugging at his father's shirt sleeve. "Pops...I gotta question." 

Dominick Sr. hummed noncommittally next to his son, looking out of the corner of his eye down to his son. "What's up, kiddo?" 

Sonny froze, and considered the words on the edge of his tongue. Father Brown _did_ say that as long as you resist evil's temptation, even if you have impure thoughts, you didn't really sin. So maybe...maybe he hadn't sinned? But if he admitted it to his father now, would that be considered not resisting? Would everything good he'd done and would do somehow balance the evil lurking in his heart? In that moment, Sonny made a choice that would haunt him well into adult hood. 

Because nothing was more painful than the idea of breaking his Pop's heart. Even if he had to lie. 

So he bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head. "S'nothing...I forgot." 

And Dominick Sr. only shrugged and turned his attention back to the priest who then directed all of the students to the various confessional booths in the church and reminded them of their prayers and what to do after they finished. 

Sonny stood, the collar around his neck suddenly three sizes too small, and walked behind the line of children to nervously await for their turn with the other priests of the church, each one trying their hardest to remember each and every instance of sin they might have given into in their short lives. 

When it was his turn to step inside of the confessional booth, Sonny's blue eyes widened in fear as he stared up to Father Adams' slack face and billowing purple vestments. Father Adams was one of the priests notoriously known for being extremely strict on the younger generation in the church. 

He swallowed thickly but sat in the chair across from the older man, shoulder hunched until the priest cleared his throat and motioned for Sonny to begin. 

"Bless me, Father, for I have s-sinned," Sonny stammered out, "this is my f-first Confession. These are my sins." 

Sonny rambled about all of the times he fought with his sisters, and didn't do his chores when his parents asked him. He talked about the time he accidentally stole something at the grocery store and cried when he returned it and when he ate pepperoni pizza at school on Good Friday instead of cheese. 

"Father I am sorry for all of these sins and for those I cannot remember," Sonny finished, though he didn't find he felt any lighter than before. In fact, he felt worse for it.

Father Adams raised his hand finally, after Sonny seemed to have run out of steam. "For those sins, my son--"

"Father Adams?" Sonny interrupted, eyes downcast behind the fringe of his hair. "Can I ask questions in confession? If it's about sins?" 

Lips pursed, Father Adams seemed to study Sonny for a few tense moments before he nodded. "Of course, my son, what trouble is in your heart?" 

"Is it really a venial sin to love another boy?" Sonny asked. "I mean, God wants us to love everybody, right? And I love everybody the same because that's what my Ma says is the right thing to do--my Pops, Papa, Uncle Vinny, my cousins Nicholas and Sammy and-and my friends, Anthony and George--"

"There are different kinds of love, Sonny. There is the love you share with your family, like you said with your uncles, and your friends, Anthony and George," he explained slowly. "Then there is the love a man and a woman share when they get married, like you will when you get older. None of these are sins. But when two men say they share the same love that your mother and father share, that is a venial sin, because God forbids a man to love another man like that. Does that make sense?"

Sonny nodded despite the fact that the confusion in his head and the pain in his heart had only intensified. "I understand, Father Adams," he mumbled.

The priest seemed happy enough with the answer and raised his hand again. "As your Penance, my son, you will say five Hail Mary's and five Our Father's. Now, the Act of Contrition." 

Head bowed, Sonny clasped his hands tightly together and prayed. "My God I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, because Thou art all good and worthy of all love, and because sin displeases Thee. Pardon me through the merits of the passion and death of Jesus Christ Thy Divine Son. I purpose by the help of Thy holy grace never more to offend Thee and to do penance, and to avoid the near occasions of sin. Amen."

With the sign of the Cross, Father Adams absolved Sonny of his sins before he said, "Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good." 

To which Sonny, with a heavy heart, replied, "His mercy endures forever," before he was dismissed to return the the pews and complete his Penance in silence, unable to meet his father's eyes until after they'd returned home and he was crowded into a hug with both of his parents.

Suddenly, he wasn't as excited for Sunday as he originally was. 

 

**10 Years Old**

* * *

 

Family reunions for the Carisi's were a weekend long affair at a minimum, and rightfully so, with extended family traveling from all parts of New York as well as the various states they'd slowly spread out to to crowd the house and nearby hotels in and around Staten Island and the neighboring burrows.

For Sonny and his siblings, it always meant that he'd get to see cousins, aunts and uncles, and grandparents that he hadn't seen since the last annual family reunion, if not longer. 

There would be enough food to feed all of Staten Island, and music, and gifts from all the missed birthdays and christmases and other holidays given out to the respective recipients. 

There would be games for the children to play and stories told of all the missed memories and milestones with pictures shared around for all to see. 

There would be gossip. Whispered accusations and pointed looks hidden behind well wishes and strained smiles. 

Before, Sonny had never paid much attention to the adults that all gathered in various groups around the house and into the backyard of his childhood home in Staten Island. He never had a reason to. But since the night of his first confession three years prior, and the residual pit it had left in his stomach since, he'd learned to keep a keen ear out for any lingering words or actions that could've been a cause of concern. In retrospect, his paranoia could've attributed to his acute detective abilities, but he would choose not to linger on that thought for longer than he absolutely had to. 

This family reunion, especially, would weigh heavily on Sonny's heart as he listened, hidden behind the doorframe that connected the kitchen to the rest of the house, in on a conversation between his parents as they stood, shoulder to shoulder, washing the mountainous stack of dishes piled beside the kitchen sink. 

"Can you believe it?" Barb asked quietly, her chin tucked into her shoulder as she leant into Dom's side. "I mean...who would've thought." 

Dom whistled and nodded his head, taking each dish passed to him to dry and put away. "I know...all everyone can talk about is how Vincent's the disappointment of the family." 

Sonny's brows pinched. Uncle Vincent? What could he have done that would make everyone think he was a disappointment? Maybe because he hadn't brought Nicholas to the reunion to see everyone? 

He really missed Nicholas. 

"Where do you think they went wrong?" Barb questioned. 

"I don't know, Barb," Dom muttered, "all's I know is Nicholas made a big show out of telling everyone he was a 'mo, bringing his _boyfriend_ to _Mass,_  and now they're the laughing stock of their parish." 

Barb sighed, the suds from her hands wiped onto the front of her apron as she buried herself in her husband's arms. "I'm just worried," she admitted, her voice muffled by Dom's shirt. "I don't want to do something wrong to our kids and-and....well, be put in that position." 

"C'mon, Barb, don't be silly," Dom chuckled, unaware of the fact that their son's heart slowly cracked with each word he heard come from his parent's lips. "We're great parents, you see how boy crazy all of the girls are and Sonny--well, Sonny's already a little lady killer, ain't he? We got nothing to worry about." 

Barb laughed wetly and nodded. "You're right, honey, I know, I just can't help but worry that--oh! Look at the time, I need to get dinner started! Go and tell the girls to come inside and help, will ya?" 

Before he could be seen, Sonny took off towards his bedroom, heavy tears tracked down his cheeks as he climbed into bed and hid beneath the covers even though he wasn't sure _why_. 

Or at least, he pretended he didn't know why.

Now he had a word for what he knew, even at 10 years old, that he was. 

A ' _mo_.

And he swore that day he would never tell another soul.

 

**13 Years Old**

* * *

 

 

_Dominick "Sonny" Michael Carisi, Jr._

The name tasted bitter on the tip of Sonny's tongue as he looked at himself in the mirror that morning, suit starched and ironed, bow tie crooked. Hair slicked back and forehead cleaned, ready to accept the anointment from Father Brown and be officially confirmed in the Catholic Church. 

When he was asked which patron saint he would choose to guide his life months prior, everyone (including Father Brown) expected to hear one answer: 

_St. John Vianney. Patron saint of priests._

What Sonny replied with left everyone speechless. 

He'd given up his childhood dream of becoming a priest a long time ago, though no one else knew that, and since had taken up with the idea that one day, he would become a police officer, a detective even. To help those in need in another way, in a way he could (hopefully) be himself and still be respected. 

_St. Michael. Patron Saint of Police._

So he would, from this day on, be known as Michael to the Catholic Church.

His mother had cried at first, but his father had only looked on with pride, hand clasped around his son's shoulder as he praised his choice. 

"I always knew you'd make us proud, Sonny boy," Dom has said, "Your Ma's just upset because her boy's becoming a man, today, that's all." 

But Sonny only felt like a coward. Because he'd never be the man his parents so desperately wanted him to be. 

He received the sacrament of confirmation that night, his eyes closed while Father Brown's thumb swept over his forehead and uttered the words, "Michael, be sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit", his Godfather Gianni stood proudly behind him to accept the young man into his arms afterwards. 

He responded with a detached, "Amen," and "Also with you," when Father Brown proudly stated, "Peace be with you." 

As if he wasn't in control of his own body, he watched on. Only an onlooker as a part of himself, the part that begged and pleaded to be released, to show the world all the love and kindness he had to offer, slowly slipped away into the darkest parts of his soul.

It only took three weeks before Sonny stopped attending Mass with his family on Sunday's. 

Two more weeks before he fought with his parents for the first time. Not just the normal, 'you haven't done your chores yet' or 'why did Mrs. Marie call from school today' agreement either, but a real, honest to God, fight. The kind that left Barb in tears at the kitchen table as Sonny locked himself upstairs, nursing the bruised cheek Dom had left after he'd smacked Sonny for upsetting his mother. 

Another week before Father Brown showed up on a Wednesday night at the Carisi's home on Staten Island looking for Sonny, worried because he'd missed seeing the youngest Carisi sibling every week after Mass when the congregation would eat a breakfast of donuts and juice for children, coffee for adults. 

Sonny only offered him a few lame excuses and promised to make it back the next Sunday, head turned away to hide the lingering bruise on his jaw and the tears that had collected in the corner of his eyes.

Eventually, Father Brown stopped asking.

And Barb and Dom Sr. continued to struggled with Sonny, to make excuses for their son's absence to the other members in the parish.

If only to keep up the vision of the traditional, upstanding Catholic family they struggled to maintain.

 

 

**17 Years Old**

* * *

 

 

Puberty was not kind to Sonny Carisi.

It felt like every other week he'd outgrown his clothes, though his weight never seemed to catch up with his height. This left the youngest Carisi at least a head above all of his sisters minus Theresa and lanky beyond comparison.

His friends never seemed to mind. Sure they made jokes about how he needed to try out for the school's basketball team or asked him about the weather, but other than that, they left Sonny well enough alone.

After all, Anthony and George still hadn't gotten their first pubic hair yet. 

Despite the issues he still dealt with at home and with his parents, he did well in all of his classes, and continued to work hard at home and on the newspaper route job he'd gotten the summer prior.  

He'd even dated Elise Gagliano for three weeks at the beginning of Sophomore year before she broke up with him for Freddy Danato, an upperclassman. Sonny was sure he knew what heartbreak was after that. 

And even though he continued to refuse to step into church on Sunday's for Mass week after week, he prayed to God every night before bed. 

He prayed for forgiveness. 

He prayed for guidance. 

Above all, he prayed for strength.

Strength to resist the temptation that only seemed to get worse with each passing day. 

Temptation in the form of a boy.

_Bobby Bianchi._

When Sonny first saw Bobby, it was at lacrosse practice after school. Dom Sr. had thought that if Sonny tried out for one of the sport's teams, he might make some new friends, maybe they'd even have something in common they could talk about again. Anything to get his son back on the path he should've been on all along. Or at least, that's what Dom believed. 

Sonny never tried out. 

Instead, he sat between the bleachers with his notebook and watched the boys on the field as they scrimmaged, in awe at the way Bobby's shirt rid up slightly whenever he tackled another kid and he'd see a flash of the tanned skin on his stomach. 

It was the fourth day of practice when Bobby caught up to Sonny after practice had ended.

"Hey, Carisi, right?" Bobby asked, brown hair sweat drenched and falling into his eyes. 

Sonny swallowed, but nodded. "Yeah, yeah, that's me, you're Bobby right?"

Bobby laughed and nodded. "Bobby Bianchi, nice to meet ya....you thinking 'bout trying out for the team? Might help you gain some muscles, y'know?" 

"Oh no-I, ugh, you don't want to see me run," Sonny chuckled, head ducked in embarrassment. "My sisters say it looks like a baby giraffe learning to walk." 

"Well, I gotta say, I think you'd look good in the uniform," Bobby drawled, a wink tacked on for emphasis that had Sonny red from the tips of his ears down. "Hey, listen, I gotta be honest, there's a reason I came over here...we're in the same math class right? And you're smart."

Sonny shrugged. "I do alright, depending on what we're learning."

"Okay, Mr. Humble," Bobby teased, nudging Sonny's shoulder. "What I meant to ask was, I'm not doing too hot, and if I get another bad grade on Mr. Shaw's test, they're gonna put me off the lacrosse team and I'm looking at getting some scholarships for it so...do you think you could tutor me or somethin?"

 _Oh God. Oh God. Oh god._ Sonny's stomach flipped as he looked into earnest brown eyes. _This is a test, I know it. I can't say yes....but isn't it worse to not help someone in need? Wouldn't God want me to help him do well?_

"Ugh....yeah," Sonny relented, the smile Bobby offered in return almost enough to make him melt into the ground. "Yeah, I think I could do that."

Bobby wrapped an arm around Sonny's shoulders and squeezed, his fingers brushing against the pale skin peaking out from Sonny's shirt sleeve. "You rock, Carisi...seriously. Let's say my house, tomorrow, 5pm? That work?" 

Sonny nodded dumbly, unable to breathe until Bobby had pulled away and turned to head in the direction of his own house with a wave. 

Study sessions slowly, secretly, turned to study dates, which soon enough turned to just dates and eventually, make out dates, two boys hidden away from the rest of the world in Bobby Bianchi's basement bedroom to explore what pleasure they could get from the friction of their jeans and inexperienced hand jobs. 

At first, Sonny was convinced that what he had with Bobby was what real love was. He was sure there was no way God would _not_ want him to experience this. 

Then, things changed. 

Bobby started asking for more. Demanded more.

For Sonny to just do his homework for him instead of tutoring him, because he had to focus on his lacrosse career. 

For Sonny to let him cheat off of him in not just Geometry, but in English, and Biology, and Spanish. 

Not only did he do these things, but he tore Sonny apart piece by piece. 

His laugh was too loud. His haircut didn't look good. He needed to loosen up, cuss more. Fit in better.

And, "For for fuck's sake, stop saying gosh, you sound like a middle schooler."

Nothing was good enough for Bobby after a while, no matter what Sonny did or what lengths he went to to do everything Bobby asked of him and more. 

He'd never be good enough for Bobby's love, is what Bobby would say. 

He'd never be good enough for anyone's love, is what his mind would say. 

Not Bobby's. Not his family's. Not God's. 

It's not until Sonny's own grades have suffered that one of his teacher's, Mr. Shaw, coincidentally or not, pulled him out of class to talk. 

It was like a dam broke. Sonny told him of all the torment he faced at Bobby Bianchi's hands and what he'd done for the boy in return. 

Well, almost all. 

Mr. Shaw promised that Bobby wouldn't know that Sonny had told him what had transpired with his the cheating, that Mr. Shaw had already been suspicious of Bobby's sudden improvement, and that it would be dealt with _quietly._

Bobby was kicked off of the lacrosse team the next day. 

And in return, Bobby put Sonny's face through a plate glass window. 

Sonny refused to name Bobby or to talk to anyone about what had happened after that, out of fear of further retaliation.

It was deserved anyway, he figured, as he cleaned the blood from his cheeks the night after it happened, away from the worried glances his parents kept throwing at him during dinner. 

After all, he failed God's test. 

He'd just have to be more next time.

He would be more.

 

**26 Years Old**

* * *

 

 

Sonny's 26 the next time he hears the name Bobby Bianchi.

He'd graduated from the police academy at the top of his class at the age of 21, and immediately signed on to the Bronx's 49th precinct as a patrol officer. 

Peter Rossi, a veteran officer, is assigned as his partner for the first 5 years. 

The man is in his late 40's at the time, by the book with a kind, if not heavy, hand, and reminded Sonny a little too much of his own father. But they got on well enough through the years.

Sonny worked hard to get his partner's approval, his boss, his peers. He never stopped trying to win their favor. Staying late to finish paperwork, bringing coffees for everyone on the morning shift.

Things were good, despite the teasing remarks he'd get from the other rookies about his sunny disposition and lack of a social life. 

Until they weren't. 

After an especially grueling day--it _had_ to havebeen a full moon, with all the psychos they had dealt with-- the two men decided to treat themselves to a few drinks down the street at the local cop bar before they headed home. 

The chatter among the patrons of the bar was too hard to ignore. 

"Did ya hear?"

"Oh yeah, the Bianchi kid really fucked himself this time." 

"His lawyer's already saying it was self-defense, that the other guy was trying to assault him--" 

"--I heard he's a 'mo and the fag he stabbed was his boyfriend." 

"Man, I bet his Pops is rolling over in his grave." 

Sonny paled as the words seemed to muddle together until the only the sound of his own blood rushing past his ears could be heard. 

Bobby had killed somebody. 

Presumably his boyfriend. 

That could've been Sonny. 

Would people talk about him like that when he died? 

Would he be anything besides what other people decided to label him as? 

 _He_ didn't even know what he would label himself as, yet. 

"--kid? Hey, Carisi," Peter snapped his thick fingers in front of Sonny's face. 

Sonny swallowed and staggered from his stool, bills thrown blindly onto the bar-top. "I-ugh, fuck, Peter, I gotta go. I gotta--" 

Peter stood and guided Sonny out onto the street, a mixture of concern and annoyance etched on to his features. "Tell hell's the matter with you, kid? Huh?"

"That guy--Bobby, Bobby Bianchi," Sonny rasped, eyes wild as he looked up to meet Peter's gaze. "I-I knew that kid, Peter, from high school, _Jesus._ "

Peter seemed to understand as he whistled. "First one you've probably heard about, huh?" 

"What?" Sonny asked. 

"First kid from high school you've heard did something fucked up?" Peter clarified, to which Sonny almost nodded until the next words from the older officer's mouth sent a cold spike of fear through his gut. "Don't worry though, he did the world a service, getting that 'mo off the street and himself thrown in jail? We're better of for it. Now, c'mon, kid, this ain't nothing a few shots won't fix, let's get back inside before I freeze my nuts off." 

Sonny threw his hands up in the air and backed away from Peter, hot air puffed quickly through his parted lips as he tried to make sense of what was happening. "Aren't you a police officer?" He asked shakily. 

Peter groaned and dragged a heavy hand down his face. "You fucking with me right now, Carisi?"

"No, _no,_ wait, wait, wait--you're telling me, if you saw some...some 'mo," Sonny spat the word out, "in danger, you wouldn't do your job, your _sworn_ job, to protect them?" 

"I ain't said that," Peter had the audacity to laugh, "all's I'm sayin' is that if it's between my life and a faggot's, I ain't risking myself. I got a wife and kids to go home to." 

"So you're saying you aren't gonna have my back if we go on a call?" Sonny all but shrieked as his panic mounted, the accusation immediately regretted as a dark look crosses Rossi's face. 

"You tryna tell me something, Carisi?" Peter asked lowly, eyes narrowed to slits. "You one of them? A 'mo? That why you ain't ever got a lady you talk about? Jesus Christ, I shoulda known! We got a fag in the ranks--what, you like to see all the uniforms, that it?"

Sonny didn't see any other option but to turn tail and run, Peter's shouts ignored as he raced all the way back to his cramped apartment where he mourned.

Mourns for the young man's life Bobby took. 

For the workplace, the career of helping people and being respected, he'd thought he'd finally found.  

And when he arrived to the precinct the next day, dead tired and hollowed out emotionally, he wasn't the least bit surprised to find his Captain waiting for him. 

He's dragged into the man's office, verbally dressed down, and given transfer papers.

"It's better for everyone involved," Captain Allen had said. 

And so Sonny spends the next 4 years in search of where he belongs, tearing himself further and further apart to fit in with each new set of colleagues he meets. 

Until he's not quite sure who Dominick "Sonny" Michael Carisi Jr. is anymore. 

 

 

**30 Years Old**

* * *

 

 

The last 4 years of Sonny's 20's were hell on him, metaphorically and literally. 

He'd jumped between precincts, burrows, divisions. 

You name it, he'd spent at least 6 months there. 

From rookie cop, to homicide detective, to vice, and back. 

From Staten Island, to the Bronx, to Queens...and back. 

He'd tried every trick in the book to fit in and make it work. To be accepted and valued as a part of the team. Wanted. 

Rinse. Cycle. Repeat.

It's not until the Captain at his last stint back on Staten Island, because after the 4th transfer, he doesn't refer to any Captain as _his_ Captain _,_ slid yet a transfer sheet onto his desk.

What he saw is not what he expected to.  

_Queens. Special Victims Unit._

"Ugh, Captain?" Sonny asked, blue eyes earnest as he peaked over the form to his superior. "What's a Special Victims Unit?" 

"Special Victims Unit is an elite squad, here in the city," Captain Jones explained, "They handle everything from domestics, to sexual assault cases, rape, child and elderly neglect...discrimination. And Carisi--hear me out--I think you might find you....fit in better with them than with any homicide team in the city." 

Sonny flinched at the words, more-so the truth behind them, but relented, a weak smile stretched across his lips. "If you say so, Cap...what'd' I gotta lose, y'know?"

"That's the spirit, son," Captain Jones stood and offered his hand to the younger man, face carefully neutral. "We appreciate the work you put in for us, Carisi...and I wish you the best." 

So that night, he sat in his small, one-bedroom apartment, and researched everything he could find on what Special Victims Unit's was about and what it looked like within the New York City. 

And for the first time, in a _long_ time, he had hope that maybe, just _maybe,_ he'd found the place he was always meant to be. 

Because he could be the person he was, and help people like him.

What could go wrong? 

A lot, he learned pretty quickly. 

Queens' Special Victims Unit was no better than Queens' Homicide Unit. 

The Bronx's Special Victims Unit was no better either. 

He refused to even _try_ Staten Island's Special Victims Unit. 

It was by accident, or maybe God's divine intervention, that he landed in Manhattan's Special Victims Unit. 

Sonny had been about to put in his resignation letter to the NYPD, since he'd been accepted to law school at Fordham night school and planned to shlep his way through 3 more years to get his degree, when he'd heard about a short-staffed team who had just lost another detective to Queens. 

His first day on the job was _rough._

Not only had he managed to piss off both his new partner _and_ his Sergeant, and probably the rest of the team, no doubt, in a manner of minutes but he'd blundered his way through the victim's statement and practically the rest of the case. 

He _really_ had thought the mustache would make a good impression...

Even then, he continued to try, fresh baked goods delivered to everyone's desks early before their shift would start, home cooked meals stocked in the break room for the night they all pulled overtime. Whatever he could do to _try._

And finally, _finally,_ it seemed to pay off. 

Amanda came around, much like Fin and even Amaro, when he returned from his reassignment. And Olivia, Heaven sent as Sonny's personal guardian angel, practiced an unending amount of patience with him as he settled and grew into his new position. They slowly invited him to drinks and team outings, and made sure his input was received and listened to, even if his lack of long-term experience left him paced behind the rest. 

They _tried,_ and that meant the world and more to the man that had been discarded without a second thought by so many others simply because of a snap judgement of his sexuality. 

Maybe because they didn't  _know_  about him. And they wouldn't, if Sonny had any say in the matter, if it kept him in their good graces. 

Fool him once, shame on them. Fool him twice (or three, or four, or five times) shame on him. 

At least, that was his plan, until he forced to deal with his greatest temptation to date. 

_ADA Rafael Barba._

With his neat, tan-colored suit with the burgundy and black striped tie, piercing viridian eyes, and undeniable confidence-filled stance, Rafael Barba felt like a revelation Sonny stumbled upon in his darkest hour the first time he'd laid eyes on the other man. 

Even when the Sergeant cut down his suggestion to handle questioning Quickride by himself and made Sonny feel like he was being babysat--which he was, he understood now--Sonny could have sworn he felt Rafael's gaze until he had disappeared into the elevator with Olivia.

All he knew for sure, in that moment, was that he was in trouble. Big trouble.

So Sonny was surprised he managed to make it a year with Manhattan SVU and the team, while he completed his L1 at Fordham, without compromising himself or his carefully thought out plan to remain closeted. 

Almost a year. 

He could have _felt_ the tension in the air as he stepped out of the interrogation room after he told Kyle and his mother about Bobby Bianchi that day and what he'd subsequently done to the man he claimed to love but murdered, that he wouldn't make it to a year.

Hell, Sonny knew he wouldn't make it to the end of the work day when Olivia called him into her office.

Even though he hadn't explicitly outed himself, he _knew_ that anyone that had watched on the other side of the one way mirror would be able to guess.

Head ducked, he dragged his feet across the bullpen and stood in front of her desk like he was waiting for retribution until Olivia joined him, blinds pulled and door shut. 

"I went to far or something, Liv? I was just try'n'a get the kid to open up, I swear and I--what's Barba doing here, no offense, Counsellor?" Sonny defended, hands shoved in his pockets to stop from fidgeting in place. 

"Actually, Carisi, no that's not why I called you in...you did great," Olivia said softly, gracefully perched on the corner of her desk. "Rafael wanted to be here in case we need to make file a report." 

Sonny floundered. "What--no, _no,_ I mean, Bobby's in Sing Sing for life and that happened, like, 15 years ago. I'm _fine."_

"She's not talking about a domestic violence case, Carisi," Rafael quipped, "Lieutenant Benson was, _is,_ worried that you haven't felt comfortable--"

"What Rafael is trying to get at, Sonny," Olivia butted in, hand on Sonny's arm as she guided him to the sofa tucked in the alcove across from her desk to sit beside him, "is that if anyone here has made you feel uncomfortable, or threatened, or _anything_ that would constitute a discrimination claim be reported, you can talk to us. I would hope that you knew you could, and would, be free to be yourself here. I won't put up for any of my officers or detective's being treated unfairly." 

Cheeks puffed, Sonny had to stop and count to five before he exhaled and finally made eye contact. First with Olivia, and then to Rafael. "It's been no one here, I swear, this has been- _is-_ the best place I've ever worked," he admitted. "I know you saw the stack of transfer papers in my life, Lieu, half the time I didn't even read whatever cock and bull reason the Captain would put down for my transfer but...that's why I've been moved around so much. And my charming personality, as you all like to point out." 

Olivia and Rafael shared a look of guilt, which Sonny took to heart as he shook his head. If he had to beg, he would get down on his knees and beg. For forgiveness, for Penance. Anything to stay. 

"Listen, I get it, I know I'm...it takes getting used to me, but you guys  _tried,_ and I'd like to stay here, if I can," Sonny pleaded. 

"I'm not transferring you, Sonny," Olivia shook her head. "That's not what this is about at all, I just wanted to make sure you knew you're safe here, and that you could come to me if you do have any issues in the future, alright?" 

Sonny jumped up and pulled Olivia into a hug before she could finish her sentence. "Loud and clear, Lieu, I promise I won't let you down!" 

Olivia laughed and patted Sonny's back before he released her. "Alright, get outta my office and go arrest Kyle's father."

"On it, boss," Sonny saluted, and almost made it to the door before Rafael caught his arm. "...Counsellor?" 

"Walk with me, Carisi," Rafael hummed, a jerk of a nod the only goodbye he offered Olivia before he walked towards the elevator. 

Even with Sonny's height, it was hard to keep up with Rafael Barba on a mission, but he managed, just, to make it into the elevator with the other man before the doors slipped shut. "What's up, Barba? You need somethin'?"

Rafael seemed to consider his words before he turned to face Sonny fully. "When I first met you, I thought you were a brazen, loud-mouthed, spoiled Catholic boy from Staten Island--"

"Gee, thanks," Sonny huffed. 

"--if you'd let me finish," Rafael snarked back, "I wanted to apologize for that...I understand what it's like to hide a major part of yourself from the world out of fear, what it does to your mental state and how you act and treat others. It's lonely, and hard, but you've managed to keep such a, if not borderline annoying, positive disposition about the world." 

"'What's left of my heart's still made of gold'," Sonny quoted with a strained chuckle, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Sorry--I, ugh, went through a Kesha phase." 

"...riveting," Rafael drawled, hand tucked into his breast pocket before he brandished a business card and handed it to the detective, stepping off of the elevator to look back at Sonny just before the doors slid shut again. "What I mean to say, detective, is that if you'd ever like to talk, about this or some more of the fascinating legal coursework at night school, you know where to find me. Now go and arrest my perp."

And with that, Sonny was left alone in the silence of the elevator as the doors closed on the sight of Rafael disappearing out of the front entrance of the precinct, blue eyes locked on the card-stock in his open palm. 

He was _fucked._

 

**34 Years Old**

* * *

 

 

If someone had asked 7 year old Sonny Carisi what he imagined his life would be like when he turned 34, it would have been  _exactly_ like it happened. 

Well, not exactly, because he could've done without the crippling Catholic guilt paired with his family's conservative (close-minded) viewpoints, his toxic relationship with Bobby Bianchi and the few men (and women) he'd seen since, and the internalized homophobia and other the issues that stemmed from it all. 

But he had a therapist for that now. 

Olivia Benson's therapist, to be exact. 

And _man,_ did that guy know what he was talking about!

The last 3 years had done a world of wonder for Sonny's overall well-being. 

He was involved with the Catholic Church again, though he was more-so mindful of his own relationship with God than with what any priest had to say during Sunday Mass.  

He loved his job, his coworkers, his partner, and his Lieutenant. They were more like a family than he'd ever thought he'd have. 

He'd graduated from Fordham law _and_ passed the Bar exam. On the first try, too, if he hadn't it mentioned before.

Oh, and he was currently shacked up with one ADA Rafael Barba. Well, not technically, but they were getting there. Sonny would bet money on it.

Their relationship was still fairly new, only a few months old after the night of his 34th birthday, a night that he would never, ever, _ever_ forget.

The team had celebrated at Forlini's after a particularly tough case had kept them from the evening (with home cooked dinner) Sonny had planned at his new apartment, despite Amanda and Olivia's argument that it was _his_ birthday, he shouldn't be the one to cook. 

In retrospect, he wasn't that upset about it.

Especially not when one Cuban ADA sidled up to the bar after the crowd around Sonny had dispersed and offered to buy him a round. 

 _Definitely_ not when said ADA casually mentioned that he had come to enjoy the late night study sessions and case-law review the two had done over the last two years. 

And most certainly not when Rafael invited him back to his apartment for a night cap. 

No, Sonny Carisi had not been upset about that night at _all._

Because it got them to where they were now, months later cuddled on Rafael's well-worn leather sofa as they watched NYC's Pride March on TV. 

Rafael had asked if Sonny would want to attend in person quietly one night over dinner weeks beforehand, but the way Sonny's hand had tensed around his utensils and his eyes darted away as he made up an excuse told Rafael all he needed to know. 

That Sonny wasn't ready for that step. Not yet. 

So instead, the older man offered to have Sonny spend the night at his apartment that day and they could watch it from the comfort of his sofa, with drinks and A/C, and still celebrate. 

Sonny had happily agreed. 

"Man, look at that flag--it's huge!" Sonny pointed, the rest of his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of his beer bottle as he lent into Rafael's side. "It's gotta take, like, at least 100 people to hold that thing!" 

Rafael hummed noncommittally, his attention long pulled from the television's screen and solely focused on the blond man next to him to soak in every micro-expression that flitted across Sonny's expressive face. 

"It's beautiful," Rafael said, unable to stop himself as he planted a solid kiss to the younger man's shoulder. "You're beautiful." 

Sonny flushed darkly as he always did when he received the rare (frequent) compliments from his boyfriend. Nonetheless, he kissed the corner of Rafael's mouth back in thanks. "God I wish I could take videos every time you do something sweet for me to prove to the squad that you're actually a softy, Rafi." 

"Nonsense, they'd think it was a duress signal to a hostage situation and send in the calvary," Rafael said, cockiness laced in his tone. "Anyway, I thought you said that you enjoyed being able to be the only one to see me like this, if I recall correctly." 

"Yeah, well, I lied," Sonny huffed teasingly, but dropped the subject. They were still too new to disclose, something they'd both agreed when Sonny had finally managed to get the courage to have the discussion with Rafael. Maybe in a few months, but then, they were happy with what they had.

_Almost._

Sonny sighed at his own mental reminder of the one hang up he still battled with, watching as his finger traced the rim of his beer bottle, his other hand placed firmly on Rafael's thigh.

They still hadn't had sex.

Sure, they'd fooled around well enough, and God himself knew how much Sonny loved to kiss Rafael. But outside of the frantic dry-humping and fondling over their clothes, nothing else had transpired.

Not that Sonny didn't want it to.

He _really_ did. 

But from his pitiful experiences with Bobby, where he'd been the one often more often than not pleasuring the other boy, to the few experiences he'd had since, Sonny felt his inexperience would be a turn off to anyone, let alone Rafael. 

He was afraid to be a disappointment in bed.

Rafael seemed to sense Sonny's sudden shift in mood and set his, now empty, crystal tumbler of scotch to the side and turned to his boyfriend. "What's on your mind, cariño?" 

Sonny looked up, swallowed, and sighed. "Honestly, Rafi? Sex." 

For his part, Rafael tried to keep a neutral expression when he heard Sonny's confession. He knew Sonny's hesitance towards intimacy stemmed from a lot more than he let on, or had ever told Rafael, and he'd never pushed the younger man to do anything he wasn't comfortable with. "...okay," he said slowly, his tanned hand covering Sonny's on his thigh. "Care to elaborate?" 

"I just, well, y'know I think you're hot, right? Of course you do, you know exactly how many times I've--" Sonny's face darkened and he switched subjects. "I don't know, I think I'm just hung up on--" 

"Your Catholic guilt?" Rafael finished. 

Sonny deflated and nodded dejectedly. "Partly...mostly, I guess. But it's more like, well, I didn't-don't-have a ton of experience _because_ the whole religion thing and with Bobby it was, yeah, _bad_ , and I'm...scared?" 

"You're scared?" Rafael prompted, palm opened to cup Sonny's cheek and pull him closer. "You're scared of what, Sonny? Of me? God? Of...not enjoying it?"

"No! No, nothing like that, kind of like that," Sonny stammered in his haste to reassure Rafael. "I'm scared _you_ won't enjoy it...me, being with me. We've both seen a hell of a lot of stuff, _bad_ stuff, being with SVU. And most people seem to think I'm some experienced Casanova--hey, don't laugh, I'm being serious here--but I'm not, Raf. I just don't want to-" _to not be enough._ "I'd hate to disappoint ya." 

"Dominick," Rafael said seriously after he collected himself, green eyes intently searching blue. "When have I ever given you the idea that I don't enjoy what we've done?" 

Sonny shrugged, but that didn't answer Rafael's question by the sharp look the older man gave him, so he relented and answered. "Never, really." 

"Then stop _assuming_ and ask me, cariño," Rafael murmured, "talk to me and we can explore it, learn what we both like and dislike, _together_. You know," he continued, head tilted as he reached around Sonny to mute the T.V., "We haven't talked much about this, because I respect your privacy and conversations that you have with the therapist, but I think it's time." 

Sonny's eyes rounded, shoulders tight as he tried to quell the sudden urge to bolt. "T-Time? Time for what?" 

"Cálmate por favor," Rafael said. "You've been dealing with your Catholic guilt all of your life, Sonny, because the Church means a lot to you. It represents more than God, but your family, and all the values you were raised on. Now I know that I don't practice my religion anymore, but as I've said before I was raised Catholic as well."

"I remember you mentioned it a time or two," Sonny nodded, though he didn't try to pull himself away from Rafael's touch. 

"Yes, because I thought it was important to you," Rafael added, "but I distanced myself from the Church a long, long time ago, and have since come to be at peace with my decision. And as much as I loath to do so, I've wanted to give you the same respect, and time, to do the same, however you decided to process it."

"That means a lot to me, Rafi," Sonny whispered. 

"I'm not finished," Rafael huffed without a touch of annoyance to his words. "I've wanted to tell you since the day that we first kissed, that despite what you might feel the Church thinks, or what I would think, or your parents, or the rest of the world, that God would not create us as we are unless he meant for us to be this way. Do you get that? Yes, we sin, and we imperfect, but you, Dominick Carisi, were meant to be exactly as you are, smart, kind--with a horrible sense in fashion--and loving, whether that be towards a man or a woman. And I'm honored that you've chosen me to care for-" _because love was a strong word, but almost fitting_ , and wasn't that a scary thought for Rafael, "-and I would enjoy nothing more than to indulge you in every situation, sexual and otherwise, if you'd let me. Because you deserve it." 

That seemed to do the trick for Sonny, who immediately climbed into Rafael's lap, long legs tucked on either side of the older man's hips, and wrapped his arms around Rafael's neck. "Really? You really think that?" Sonny asked earnestly, lips mere inches from Rafael's as he spoke. "You'd do that for _me_?"

"Really," Rafael hummed as he nodded, one hand dragging through the blond locks at the back of Sonny's neck while the other rested on his hip. "Tell me what you want to try, we'll do it at your pace and you can say no if or whenever you want to stop. I'll always listen," he promised. 

Sonny smiled, dimples deep in his cheeks as he lent forward to finally press their lips together, the two enjoying the feel of one another's lips and the slight chill from their drinks before they pulled away. "I've got a couple of ideas, then..." He murmured before he ducked back down to fell into Rafael with a laugh. 

There wasn't a doubt left in his mind that he'd found Heaven.  

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
